


Just a FAYZ

by Lassenby



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: M/M, basically canon rating, except for cursing, vague mentions of hanky panky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassenby/pseuds/Lassenby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard guesses that Orc will get a reality show when he FAYZ comes down. He’s cool, he’s colossal, he’s a living mountain. Who wouldn’t watch that? And Howard will be right there, riding his coattails to stardom. Except…eventually Orc will start dating someone. Get married, have kids. That would be a good show, too, but where does that leave Howard? Out of the picture. He can’t let that happen. He’s got to secure his future as a reality TV star, even if it means becoming the love interest himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lines in the Sand

Howard didn't particularly like Zil, but he wasn't dumb enough to piss him off, either. So when the leader of the Human Group caught him hurrying through his territory and called him over to hang out, how could Howard say no? After all, he was no chud. He was a normal.

While Lance, Hank, Zil and Lisa lounged around, relaxed and chatty, Howard felt tense. They must have called him over for a reason. He wished they would get to the point. He wanted to go home. Orc was there, and although Orc wasn't the best company, Howard still liked him a lot better than these self-important jerks.

“I'll probably become a cop,” Zil said thoughtfully. “Keep up the work I'm doing here, you know? Sticking up for the little guys.”

“You could be a politician,” Lisa suggested.

Zil shrugged. “Too much campaigning. I'd rather be on the beat.”

Howard fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“What about you?” Lance asked him directly. “What're you gonna do after the FAYZ ends, Howie?”

Howie. Nobody called him Howie, but he stopped short of correcting him. Dealing with the Human Group was sensitive, anymore.

At least he had an answer. Howard thought about the end of the FAYZ often. “I'm gonna be a TV star,” he said.

“We're all gonna be on TV,” Lisa said. “People are gonna want to know everything. News, talk shows. We'll probably have people with cameras on our lawns day and night, fighting for a single shot of us.” She sounded pleased about that idea.

“Until the next big massacre or whatever. But I'm gonna outlast the hype. Orc's gonna probably get offered a reality tv show. I mean, wouldn't that be an awesome show? The day to day life of a badass stone-skinned-”

“Freak,” Hank snapped. He'd been leaning back in the shadows, taking the conversation in without contributing, but now he glared at Howard through bright, slitted eyes. “Who'd watch a show about a freak?”

Howard shifted, uncomfortable. “Orc's not really a freak, though. He didn't mutate or nothing like that. It's more like a...a skin condition.”

Lance snorted. “Helluva skin condition.”

“He's a chud,” Hank said. “No way would anyone give him his own show.”

“People probably would watch it just to feel better about themselves. Like, they might have it bad, but at least they're not some pathetic mutant,” Lisa said.

That's not what Howard had in mind, but he bit his tongue. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have crossed the street when Zil waved him over, shouldn't have pulled up a barrel in the burned out shell of the station.

“How's that gonna make _you_ a TV star, Howie?” Lance asked.

“I'm Orc's best friend. His only friend. I'll be on the show all the time.”

“I'd watch that show,” Zil mused, scratching his arm lazily. The malevolent glance Hank shot him made him stammer and add, “Like Lisa said, though. Just to see some freak screwing up his pathetic life.”

“It wont work out, anyway,” Lisa said to Howard. “Sure, you'd be on the show for awhile. But eventually Orc will make more friends. More interesting ones. Celebrities. And when he gets a girlfriend? When he marries her and has a litter of baby freaks? Forget it. It'll be the Orc and his creepy family show.”

“Damn,” Howard whispered. “I'm gonna get wrote out.”

“Listen. Howard. We called you over here for a reason,” Zil said. “It's actually about your buddy, Orc.”

“Charles,” Howard said. “He likes people to call him Charles now.” Even he didn't call him Charles, but it seemed like an important thing to say, suddenly. An important distinction. Charles was a human name.

“Whatever,” Zil dismissed with the wave of a hand. “What I'm getting at is, I know you hang around Sam and Dekka and the other heavy hitters. I get that. You're just looking out for your own skin. Right?”

Howard hesitated, then gave a tentative nod.

“That's fine. For now. But you're a normal, like us. I just want to know that if shit ever hits the fan and you have to pick a side, you remember which team you're on.”

“Sure. I'm no freak,” Howard agreed readily.

“Orc-”

“Charles is a normal,” Howard insisted. “He's with me. With us.”

If the shit did hit the fan, and increasingly Howard was sure it would, he thought he would probably side with Sam. Sam was the big dog. Sam could protect him. But Sam wasn't here now, and Howard just wanted to get the hell out of here.

Hank wasn't satisfied. “What if Orc sides with the freaks?”

The others tensed. Eager for Howard's answer.

“I'll...” His tongue felt swollen and dry, suddenly. He couldn’t force words past it. After a swig of lukewarm water from his plastic bottle, he smiled. “I'd fight for the Human Group, of course. Orc's just my meal ticket. He's gonna make me a tv star, remember?”

“Right.” Zil raised his canteen to toast. “To normals.”

Mismatched beverage containers clacked together. Everyone relaxed. Even Hank, who had never actually sat up from his languorous stretch against the concrete slab, seemed to settle back a bit.

“Well, I'd better go,” Howard said, climbing to his feet, relieved that it now felt safe to do so.

“You can chill with us anytime,” Zil said. “But, you know. Leave the chud at home.”

“Sure.”

Howard turned away and hurried toward the buckled front of the gas station, kicking through drifts of old candy wrappers and crushed coke cans. What remained roof arched overhead cast bands of shadow across the ground. Out of the shade, the sun beat down cruelly.

“Hey. Hold on a sec,” Lisa called after him.

“T'sup?” Howard asked, craning to look back at her.

“What are you going to do? About the tv show, I mean.”

“Donno.”

“Make yourself non-expendable,” Lisa said, grinning. She elbowed Zil conspiratorially. “Maybe not leave room for anyone else. Become the love interest yourself.”

Zil snorted, Lance barked a laugh. Lisa cackled at her own joke.

Howard forced a smile. “Hah. Yeah, thanks for the advice, but he's not really my type.”

He didn't relax until he'd gotten a distance away from the station and rounded a corner. Out of sight of the Human Group, he sighed and slumped against the stucco wall of a suburban home. Not his. He'd be happy to step through his own doorway, into his own house.

What he now considered his house, anyway. Cramped and stinking of garlic as it was, at least the only person he had to appease there was Orc, and he was easy to please. All Orc ever wanted was beer.

But as Howard headed home, sticking to the shade and sweating anyway in the sweltering afternoon sun, he mulled over the conversation he'd had with the Human Group.

If Orc did get a show, Howard would be displaced by the inevitable love interest. Of course there would be a girlfriend. Why not? Freakish pebble skin aside, Orc was kind of handsome, for a mutant. Definitely big and powerful. Girls liked that, right? And he'd been a hero in the FAYZ. And, most compellingly, Orc was _cool_. The coolest person Howard had ever met.

He'll get a girlfriend right away. And that will be it for Howard.

Lisa's advice had been a joke. A jab at his expense. But was it really such a dumb idea?

“Yeah. A really dumb idea,” Howard mumbled. “Orc would never go for that.”

That didn't stop him from mulling it over, though. He needed to secure his future. Things were going pretty swell for him in this small pond, under the protection of the biggest fish, but out there lay a whole ocean. And when the walls came down...

By the time Howard stamped up the weedy lawn and pushed into the dark, stinky interior of the house he shared with Orc, he was already formulating a plan.

 


	2. Devotion

The first watery rays of sunlight roused Howard the next morning. Dawn painted his bedroom pink.

Howard hadn't done much to personalize the room. His clothes were heaped in one corner, a fraction of his 'supply' stashed under the bed, just enough that anyone who came hunting for it would be satisfied that they'd found the whole payload. He'd taken down the paintings which had once hung in the room, pastel parades of circus animals, pressed flowers. They leaned against the walls with their cardboard backing turned out, the hanging wires exposed.

It couldn't be later than six am, though it was impossible to tell without a clock. The lack of electricity meant that nearly everyone in the FAYZ simply got up with the sun. Not Orc, though. Howard could hear him snoring from the next room.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, not bothering to pull anything over his underwear just yet.

“Orc,” Howard called, making his way toward the shattered door frame. The Goliath had stumbled drunk through the doorway often enough to have smashed it wide open. “Wake up. We have to-”

Howard froze in the doorway.

Orc had passed out drunk, again. Like always. Except he must have hit the bottle harder than usual. A couple weeks back, Howard had begun covering Orc's beds with plastic sheets, the kind they made for incontinent little kids and old people. Orc had hated it. It made him feel like an animal, he'd whined. But Howard was tired of hauling perfectly good mattresses out to the backyard just because Orc had pissed all over them. Even more tired of dragging in new ones.

Even the sheet hadn't been enough, this time. Orc had puked all over himself, the bed, the floor, even the wall, then passed out in the mess. Howard scowled. He would have to scrub the carpet. No way Orc would do it.

“Goddammit, Orc! Wake up,” he demanded.

The disgusting heap on the bed groaned.

“We're supposed to pick cabbages today. _You're_ supposed to pick cabbages,” Howard crossed the room, wincing at the tacky carpet under his bare feet. He slammed a fist down on Orc's shoulder, as hard as he dared. Not enough to hurt his own hand. Not enough to piss off Orc.

Still, the heap barely stirred.

“Get up,” Howard repeated. Furious tears blurred his vision. He wiped them away with his wrist. “Come on.”

Nothing.

“If you don't work, we can't afford beer.”

That got Orc moving. A little, anyway, enough to make him sit up and slump back against the wall. “My head,” he moaned.

“It's your own fault,” Howard said.

He expected Orc to argue. He didn't. Instead, his big, misshapen head swung slowly from side to side, looking around at the mess he'd made.

“I did it again,” he said sullenly.

“Yeah.”

“You don't gotta clean it up. I'll do it.”

“No kidding?” Howard asked, suspicious. It seemed too good to be true.

Sure enough, Orc slouched lower against the wall, sliding back into the divot he'd formed in the filthy sheets. His eyelids drooped. “Lemme just sleep a little more, first. I don't feel so good.”

Howard nearly screamed with frustration. But no, couldn't scream at Orc. As bad as he wanted to, as much as Orc deserved it, Howard needed him. So he whirled around and stamped into the kitchen instead. He snatched up a rag and wasted a splash of their limited water supply to wet it.

Back in the bedroom, Orc had dozed off. He woke with a start when Howard climbed onto the mattress.

“Whaddya doing?” Orc slurred.

“Cleaning you up.”

Everything from Orc's chin to his waist was streaked with dried puke. It looked bad and smelled worse. Boozy, and so acrid that it burned Howard's nostrils.

Howard started on his chest, bunching the rag in both fists and scrubbing roughly. He knew it didn't hurt, but Orc grunted and flexed anyway. Little by little, the crust washed away, leaving only the greenish gray shimmer of pebbles beneath.

“This is nasty. What would Astrid think if she saw you like this?”

Orc rolled his shoulders in a seismic shrug. “I don't care. Astrid's with Sam.”

A twinge of relief mingled with disappointment. He'd be glad not to have to listen to Orc pine over Astrid anymore, but now Howard couldn't the crush to control him.

“I mean, if she saw this, she'd know how much of a drunk you are. She already wants to cut you off. If she sees you like this, even I won't be able to talk her out of it.” Howard shook his head. “What the hell's the matter with you? You knew you had to work today. The cabbages are wilting fast. We cant-”

“Had a nightmare,” Orc said. “Bette.”

Howard exhaled a long suffering sigh. “For the millionth time, forget about that. It was an accident. Nobody cares about it anymore.” He tried to sound reassuring, but it was hard. The words came through gritted teeth.

“God cares.”

Tears were forming in the corners of Orc's eyes, both the human and monster one. They cut dark tracks across stone cheeks. Howard guessed that he was still a little drunk. He really never sobered up anymore.

Howard swabbed Orc's chin a bit more gently. “Isn't God supposed to be forgiving, or something?”

“That's Jesus.”

“Well, okay. He'll probably take it up with his old man.” Howard finished wiping off Orc's chest, making sure to work the rag into the deeper cracks.

Orc only grunted.

Last was the corner of Orc's mouth. Such a normal patch of skin that Howard might have thought he was just some teenager after a crazy party, a guy who'd drunk too much and woken up in a bad way.

He lingered there. Orc wasn't really looking back at him. His eyes were glazed over, staring at something in his mind. Bette, or God, or maybe just his next can of beer. But it gave Howard a moment to study his face. That square of human skin which always looked like porcelain to Howard, too smooth and pale against the craggy rest of him. The delicate, down-turned corner of his mouth.

Howard had forgotten all about his encounter with the Human Crew. Now Lisa's suggestion floated back to him. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Orc. Probably disgusting, right now. But if he brushed his teeth? The normal part of his lips looked soft, nicely shaped...almost pretty. It wouldn't be so bad, Howard thought. Not bad at all. Worth a TV deal, at least.

Absorbed in thought, he didn't realize how long he'd been staring.

“What?” Orc asked.

Howard let his hand holding the rag drop away. “The Human Crew called me over yesterday. They wanted to know that if there was a conflict, I'd side with the normals.” It was true. Not what he had been thinking about, but true.

Orc's eyes narrowed. “What'd you tell them?”

“It doesn't matter. I'm loyal to you,” Howard said.

“Yeah? You sure? You're not a freak. You could join them.”

“I'm wiping puke out of your cracks, Orc. Yeah. I think I'm pretty loyal to you.”

Orc's gaze slid aside. His expression blanked over again.

Howard climbed off the bed and wiped his own knees with a rag already too disgusting to do much good. At least nobody smelled very good anymore. He went to get dressed. Later, he would have to bunch up the corners of the sheet and haul it to the putrid trash heap in the backyard, douse the floor with lysol and rub out the stain. But that was later.

Right now, they needed to get to work.

 


	3. Dented Cabbages

Howard leaned against the bed of the pickup, half dozing in the mid-morning heat. Orc stomped around in the field. Periodically he would stop and wait for Howard to toss out the corpse of a blue bat. Then he'd resume his steady rhythm of step, pluck a cabbage, step, pluck a cabbage.

Occasionally he'd holler for Howard to beer him, and Howard would toss him a warm can of Budweiser.

Once, Howard hadn't been able to watch Orc step into the field without butterflies of panic alighting in his gut. Ever since one of the worms had nearly drilled into Orc's face. It would have burrowed deeper if they hadn't caught it- down into his body, into the quivering, vulnerable organs beneath his armor, devouring him from the inside out.

Remembering that close call still made Howard's heart quicken. He'd nearly become worm food himself, sprinting after Orc, pulling as hard as he could on the zeke's tail. Shaking and sobbing. Desperately scared.

So even after Astrid had discovered how to keep the zekes occupied, Howard had doubts. He used to dart nervously around the outside of the field, just beyond the zeke's territory. Watching to see if the worms would go back on the deal. If they did, he wasn't sure what he'd do. To step into the field would be suicide.

He'd never had to find out. The zekes preferred bats to the challenge of Orc's stony hide. Now, a month later, Howard dozed while Orc plucked cabbages.

Dozed until something hit him squarely between the eyes. He yelped.

“What the fuck?”

Orc stood doubled over in the field, clutching his belly and laughing so hard that it startled up a flock of crows from a grove of trees nearby.

“Why'd you do that?” Howard rubbed his forehead. A cabbage rolled slowly across the asphalt, the cabbage Orc had thrown. That thing was _heavy._ Denser than anything that size had a right to be.

“I kept yelling 'beer me', but you didn't do nothing.” Orc said.

“I fell asleep,” Howard confessed. “You didn't have to give me a concussion.”

“Didn't mean to hit you in the face. That was a lucky shot.”

“Lucky.” Howard didn't want another cabbage to the forehead, so he snicked a beer out of the plastic rings and pitched it to Orc.

Orc caught it with one massive hand, smashed it against his skull and let it drain into his mouth. “Thanks. Hey, why don't you help me? The zekes are chowing down.”

“No way, man. They'll be able to tell I'm just a slow, fleshy normal. They'll come back.”

Orc grunted and bent down to pull another cabbage. The stalk, as thick as a pylon, snapped easily as he yanked it up.

“Besides, I'd have to use a knife. I don't have your strength.”

“You got a lot of excuses, though.”

“Excuse this,” Howard said, flashing Orc a rude gesture. He picked his nose with the finger for good measure.

Orc stamped forward with one foot and brought the other around to kick a cabbage, hard. It snapped off the stalk and flew straight toward Howard. He wasn't sleeping this time. He brought his hands up in front of him, and the cabbage thumped straight into his waiting grip.

“Damn!” Orc boomed. “Good catch.”

“Nice kick. Did you used to play soccer or something?”

“Nope. Guess I'm just a natural.”

They lapsed into silence as Orc went back to his usual step, pluck, step, pluck. The heat lulled Howard back to sleep. His eyelids drooped. Just in time, his chin dipped and startled him awake. Orc was lining up another punt. Howard caught this one, too, even though the shot went high. If he hadn't jumped for it, the cabbage would have sailed harmlessly over the truck.

That unfamiliar laugh rose from Orc again. Not a bray this time, but a rumble. A chuckle which fittingly reminded Howard of stones sliding over one another.

“Albert's not going to be able to sell these,” Howard said, frowning down at the deeply dented vegetable in his hands.

“Someone will buy it. Kids'll eat anything,” Orc said.

He was probably right. Before Howard had begun dealing coke and E, they'd been down to eating grasshoppers. Orc used to stomp around fields to startle them out, whole Howard trailed after, catching them in a net. He'd heard that in some countries, people fried up bugs and ate them like candy. Those people had clearly never eaten Mike & Ikes or Skittles or anything that actually tasted good.

Howard remembered the sharpness of his hunger and the acrid aftertaste the grasshoppers left in his mouth. He thought that, yes, he would have eaten a cabbage with a footprint stamped into it.

He tossed the cabbage into the air and kicked as hard as he could. It shot far to the right, into territory they hadn't cleared of zekes. Orc raised an eyebrow.

“You trying to kill me?”

“I'm out of practice,” Howard said, his cheeks warm. “The next one will be better.”

They kicked cabbages back and forth as the sun sailed higher, reached its peak and began its slide down the western sky. Back and forth, playing through lunch.

“How come nobody's playing sports?” Howard asked. “I know everyone's hungry, but I think most people are getting almost as bored as hungry.”

“Donno.”

Darting forward, stomping down the the 'ball' before it could roll under the truck. Howard's toes were beginning to ache from jamming them into dense cabbages. This would be even more fun with a ball.

“There must be balls around, right? Kids probably left them alone. You cant eat balls.”

Orc chuckled. “Huh. Huhuh. Eating balls.”

“That's...heh.” Howard failed to stave off a grin. “But seriously. We should find a ball sometime. Do this legit.”

“What is this, anyway? Other than not getting no cabbages picked.”

“Soccer,” Howard said. “I mean, basically. We'd need goals and more people for a real game. But it's more like soccer than anything else.”

Sometime after that, Howard punted a cabbage too far out. Orc chased after it until a black, writhing carpet lurched up around his feet, and even then he didn't stop until Howard screamed bloody murder. His skin was too thick to feel the gnashing teeth of the worms. Thankfully, there was no repeat of that ugly day. The boys escaped with half a load of dented, filthy cabbages.

They'd been out since seven o'clock, and only crowded back into the truck at around two in the afternoon. Most of the time, Orc got bored and crabby much earlier. Sobered up more than his liking, even with Howard tossing him beers the whole time. This was the least drunk Howard had seen him in a long time. After they'd begun dicking off, Howard had only beered him twice more. Twice in twice as many hours.

“Are you really gonna get a soccer team together?” Orc asked on the way home, bumping along in the passenger seat of the truck. Howard had learned to drive. Not well; just enough to navigate this single stretch of country road out to the fields.

“Sure. Why not?”

Orc paused. “Can I play?”

“Obviously. Man, I don't think anybody would join up if it was just me. Everyone things I'm a scuzz bag. But you, you're a hero. You saved Dekka, remember? People haven't forgotten that.”

Howard probably shouldn't take his eyes off the road, not with his limited driving ability, but he couldn't help but check if his compliments had landed. He was gratified by the slight curl of Orc's human lips.

But the smile wilted quickly. “Zil won't care about that. He don't like Dekka, anyway. He don't like any of us freaks.”

“We don't need Zil and his stuck up toadies. Besides, after they see how much fun we're having, they'll be begging to join us. Freaks or no freaks.”

 


	4. Contract

Howard hadn't been able to talk his way out of mowing the high school football field. No deadly zekes burrowed out here, waiting to devour him. Orc had gone in first and snatched up the thick, spiny weeds which had grown nearly as high as Howard's waist, yanking them out all the way to the dirt caked roots. Then it was Howard's turn to sweat in the unforgiving sun, pushing the little reel mower back and forth across the field until his spine felt brittle and his arms leaden.

Albert following him around didn't help, either.

“Have you considered charging admission?” he asked.

“For what? To play?” Howard said, huffy and out of breath.

“Or to spectate.” Albert kept pace, just clear of the grass clippings, hands neatly folded behind his back. “Someone could sell food, too.”

“I'm guessing that someone would be you.”

“Is that a problem?”

Howard stopped. He leaned against the mower's handle, unclipped a water bottle that hung around his belt and took a long swig. If someone had told him before how much he would miss ice, he'd never believe it. Lukewarm water didn't taste half as good.

“No problem,” he said. “But this is just for fun, you know? I don't think anyone's gonna be impressed. Not enough to broil out here just to watch, anyway.”

“People aren't as hungry anymore, but they're starving for entertainment. Everyone is bored without electricity,” Albert said. Howard was surprised to hear his own sentiment echoed by Albert. “And it's hot everywhere. There's a shady spot under those trees. You could have Charles drag some bleachers out of the auditorium.”

“Orc's not a workhorse,” Howard said.

“He works the fields,” Albert pointed out.

“That's...listen. He's got to pull his own weight, and, I don't know if you've noticed, but he's pretty damn heavy. You don't know everything.”

Albert didn't need to know everything, either. Not about the mattresses which Howard searched further and further for, that he dragged all the way back home. Not about the stinking, shameful heap in the backyard. And absolutely not about the nights when they'd choked down burned grasshoppers because they'd spent their very last 'berto on beer.

Howard shook his head. “Anyway, here I am, sweating my ass off and breaking my back. I'm not using Orc.”

“Fine. You're not using him for this,” Albert said.

“What do you want, Albert?” Howard asked wearily. “You want to sell hotdogs? Fine. It's pretty much still a free country.”

“I want to be your agent. I'd work with you to consider the offers of competing television networks. With you and Charles both, if the FAYZ ever drops.”

Howard shot a glance to where Orc sat in the shade, under the grove of trees where Albert had suggested they put bleachers. He leaned against a birch trunk, arms relaxed at his sides, legs akimbo. It would have been immodest if not for the pants Howard had laboriously patched together for him. Howard might have been imagining it, but he thought the tree bowed slightly under Orc's weight. Clearly asleep. No chance he'd overhear.

Still, Howard beckoned for Albert to follow him to the orange brick building on the other side of the field. He leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Who told you about the tv thing?”

Albert hesitated. “It doesn't matter, does it? Anyway, it's a good idea. I'm impressed that you thought of it, but not surprised. You're smart. Even if you don't always act like it.”

Like magic, a golden slug appeared in Albert's fingers. He turned it over and over, making it flash in the sunlight. Albert smiled wanly.

“'bertos,” he mused. “I put a lot of thought into the names for these, and you superseded them without even trying.” Magician-like, Albert palmed the slug so quick that Howard didn't see his fingers fold around the glint of gold.

“Doesn't matter anyways,” Howard said with a shrug. “It won't work out.”

“For you,” Albert said. “That doesn't mean it won't work for Charles.”

“Damn, man. How much did Lisa tell you?”

“I didn't say it was Lisa. And my sources are very thorough. So, everything, I expect.” A quick, secret smile betrayed how much Albert knew.

Howard scowled. “You here to rag on me, then?”

Albert looked surprised. “No. Like I said before, I'd like to be your agent. And help you secure your position on the show.”

“Seriously? Well. Do you have any ideas about that?” Howard asked.

Now Albert's eyes darted over to Orc, who remained passed out on the newly cropped lawn. “This is a little delicate. How about Lisa's suggestion? Becoming the romantic interest. Is that an option for you?” Albert looked back at Howard, his gaze steady and nonjudgmental.

“You're asking if I'm gay.”

“Or bisexual. Or simple eager enough for this opportunity to fake it.”

Howard bit his lip. Before the coyote attack and the mutation, he'd had been attracted to Orc. Back in their old lives, they'd hung out sometimes, and sometimes Howard thought there might be an electricity between them, sparking a little sometimes. But Orc never brought it up, and he only ever talked about girls we was into. He'd never made a move on Howard.

If he had, Howard would have reciprocated. Orc was good looking. Well respected, too, at least by the mean and weak kids, and not bad company, either. Especially before he'd started drinking.

But now, with the mutation? Now that Orc had become a drunken, pebble skinned freak?

Howard swallowed. “It would just be really cool to be on tv, you know?”

“Understood.” Albert said with a small, sharp nod.

“I don't know. This probably doesn't matter,” Howard said. “Orc's straight, I think.”

“Have you asked him?”

Howard shrugged.

Albert smiled. “Forget it. Here's the deal. I'll help you seduce Charles, and if you're successful, I get to be your agent when the FAYZ ends.”

Howard's nose wrinkled. “I don't know if seduction is on the table, exactly.”

Albert flapped a dismissive hand. “Seduce, woo, impress. Win over.” He leaned forward slightly, arms folded across his chest. “Out of curiosity, though. What is that situation like?”

“Situation?”

The long, pointed stare told Howard exactly what Albert meant.

“I don't know. I haven't looked,” Howard lied.

Albert leaned back. “You don't have to tell me. Like I said, I'm just curious. I think everyone is.”

Howard snorted. “He has to stop and piss every five minutes. I'm surprised none of your 'thorough sources' have filled you in on the details.”

“Hm. I've got to get going,” Albert said. As if he were too busy to discuss such low-brow matters, as though he hadn't just asked, in more oblique terms, what Orc had going on downstairs. “Meet me at the marketplace day after tomorrow to report how it's going.”

Howard nodded numbly. The absurdity of the situation began to catch up to him. He felt torn between a laugh and a moan. What was he thinking? And now he'd gotten Albert in the mix? His heart slammed hard and fast in his chest while he watched the other boy walk away.

What did he know about seducing anyone? He'd never had a boyfriend before. Life had been hard enough for a small, nervous black kid. Meeting Orc and getting under his protection had been a stroke of luck. But even Orc couldn't protect him if he'd come out as gay.

But now, he had no idea how to attract a guy.

As he crossed the field toward Orc, pulling the push mower along behind him, he wondered what he could do. If making sure Orc always got his due and selling drugs to afford his beer and making sure he ate and cleaning up his messes and hauling back heavy furniture wasn't enough to make Orc have feelings for him, what was? What would get his attention?

Howard didn't know. But he had an idea about how to find out.

 


	5. Nightmare

Fire and thunder filled the world. The hydraulic thunk-thunk-thunk of massive footsteps filled Howard's head to splitting. He saw everything as though looking through smudged glasses. His feet felt too leaden to carry him forward, his arms too weak to lift from his sides.

Orc put a fist through an automatic glass door, not automated anymore, with the power out. Howard recognized the inside of the Ralph's. The empty husks of the quarter machines, broken long ago by baseball bats. The fake tattoos and candy and bouncy balls long since stolen.

Framed by shattered glass and backlit by flames, Orc stepped forward.

“Stop where you are,” someone demanded. “The counsel will-”

Machine gun shaking in the kid's hands, ripped aside by the furious giant.

“Gimme beer,” Orc rumbled. His voice was huge. Each syllable a separate, throbbing agony in Howard's brain.

“You know I can't do that. Where's Howard?”

The kid's words were brave enough, but he stepped back, retreating from the Orc. The others with their rifles still raised, doing the same.

 _Right here,_ Howard wanted to say, but he couldn't seem to squeeze the words out. What was Orc doing here?

Howard must have been away too long. He must have forgotten to stock up on booze, and Orc had gone on a rampage, desperate to get drunk.

A fist like a boulder flung out and hit the foremost kid in the jaw. Howard heard the bone crack. He saw the way half the kid's face folded up on itself before he dropped like a sack of meat.

Gunfire lit up the dark interior of the grocery store.

“Orc...” Howard's voice came out in a rasp, a whisper too faint to be heard over the rattle of automatic weapons.

Bullets ricocheted off Orc's hide. Some hit the kid's who had fired them, sending them staggering back, eyes wide with shock, clutching themselves.

Orc roared. His voice shook the store, bringing rubble down around them. Dust clouded Howard's vision further. In the encroaching darkness, he saw the blurry form of his friend lurching through the store, knocking down anyone his path. Bones crunched under his feet. Wet tearing sounds, meaty sounds, filled the air as fists slammed into skin. Screaming. Crying.

The noise became mercifully garbled, like it was coming from a long way above water. Then silence. The world faded out.

Around Howard, impossible tall hooded figures sprang up. The rest of the counsel. Sam, Astrid, Albert, all looming high overhead like stone idols, suddenly much taller than Howard. More massive even than Orc.

_Death._

The word filled Howard's head. Orc, sentenced to death for the innocent kids he'd murdered.

Howard wanted to argue, but nobody would listen. Why not? He was a joke. Nobody respected him on the counsel. They barely tolerated him.

And what could he say? Orc had done it.

Howard flung himself against Orc's unmoving frame and pounded him with his fists. Sam raised hands the size of airplanes overhead. Took aim.

 _Get out of here! Run!_ Howard sobbed against Orc's skin, tears darkening the gray stone to black.

Howard could feel the heat and see the light flaring in Sam's palms. He staggered aside, just in time. Orc bellowed.

Howard jolted, suddenly in his own bed. The moon rode high outside his window. Sweat stippled his skin. The sheets twisted around his legs, tangled and clammy. His breath came in hard gasps.

Despite the sweat and his fevered pulse, the air chilled his skin. It couldn't be very cold, though. It never got cold in the FAYZ. All the same, he straightened out the sheets and pulled them tightly around himself.

Orc on a rampage. Orc killed for his crimes. And Howard, helpless. Cowardly. Alive.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

From the next room came the sound of retching. Orc, ruining another set of sheets. Maybe even the mattress. Howard would have to...

Tomorrow. For now he curled in on himself, face against his own mattress, and cried himself back to sleep.

 


	6. The Hunt

For the tenth, eleventh, twelfth time, Howard paced up and down the magazine aisle of the Ralph's, searching the shelves with growing frustration.

Like the rest of the store, this section had nearly been picked clean. Most of them remaining magazines were about business; Forbes, Business Today, Consumers Digest. No matter how hungry kids got for entertainment, those issues would keep yellowing on the shelves. He grabbed a Car and Driver so that he could sneak the magazine he really wanted out between the pages. If he could find it, anyway.

With sweet, painful nostalgia, Howard remembered the internet. Back before the FAYZ, he could have just typed a few words into google and had a million answers at his fingertips.

His last ditch effort, thumbing forward the boring magazines to see if any other issues had been shuffled behind them, yielding nothing. Howard gave up and headed toward the exit. At the front of the Ralph's, the corpses of the gumball machines made him uneasy. He'd mostly forgotten his dream the night before. The sight of those gutless tanks, their broken edges gleaming in the light coming through the floor to ceiling windows, made his heart skip a beat.

What had he dreamed about? Something about Orc. Orc out of control. Full of murderous rage.

A shudder wrenched through him. He tried to look casual as he left through the open doors, nodding to the guards as he passed.

Two girls sat on the curb nearby, giggling with their backs to him. On a hunch, Howard inched forward to peer over their shoulder. A stack of magazines sat between them. They pored over an issue open on one of the girl's lap. From a glossy page, the headline read: Tease him and Please him!

Howard swallowed.

“Do you really need all of those?” he asked.

The girls glared up at him. They studied him, catlike, and seemed to find him lacking, because they gave a little sniff and looked back down at their magazine.

“Get lost, weirdo. These are girl magazines.”

“I just need an an article about...” Howard wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “How to get a guy? Dating guys? Something like that. It's for a friend,” he added quickly.

“You don't have any friends,” one of the girls said. A snub-nosed, blond haired brat. “Just that gross rock guy. Is it for him?”

“That's Orc.” The other girl's nose wrinkled. “He's gonna need more help than some magazine if he wants to date anyone.” The two girls bowed their foreheads together and cackled. From a less witch-like pair of kids, Howard might have considered it a giggle.

This was Albert's fault. When Howard mentioned that that he thought he should ask a girl for advice, Albert had to complicate things. Why ask a girl, he'd said, when you could go straight to the girl bible?

Cosmopolitan.

These girls couldn't have been older than ten, way too young to need articles about 'Diet myths that really make you fat' and how to 'Keep your man faithful'. But here they were with the whole stash of Cosmos.

“Look, I'll pay you. One 'berto for the magazine,” Howard said.

An overestimation. The girls' eyes widened.

“You must really want to hook up with this guy.”

Howard felt blood rush to his cheeks. “It's not like that. And if you're going to be that way, one 'berto for the whole stack.”

The snub-nosed blond looked incredulous. “Three magazines.”

“Half.”

“What are you going to do with the rest, anyway? You said you just wanted to one article.”

Howard shrugged. “Probably use them for toilet paper. Do we have a deal?” Smirking, he extended his hand down to the red head. Instead of taking his hand, she shot a glance at her friend. A conversation transpired wordlessly between them.

“Five magazines.”

“Fine,” Howard said, eager to be done with the transaction. The guards inside the Ralph's were looking at him strangely. Although he would have to get used to that, if he was going to be the boyfriend of a golem on national tv.

He extended a hand down to the redhead and she shook it. Her pudgy hands felt clammy. Her nails were painted bubblegum pink, the color smeared all over the cuticles.

The other girl flipped through the stack, searching. She picked out a magazine and leafed through.

“Eight ways to make any guy go gaga,” she said flatly.

Even the headline made Howard want to curl in on himself. But he nodded, thin-lipped with embarrassment, and took the offered magazine. The girls rationed out the other five issues they were willing to spare for a seemingly endless stretch of minutes. Long enough that Howard begun to wish he'd just taken the loss.

Eventually they handed over the magazines. He turned without thanking them and hurried to the school, where market had ended for the day. Only a few stragglers remained to finish packing up their unsold merchandise.

The merchants eyed Howard with suspicion as he passed. They glanced around, and Howard knew they were looking for Orc. Wondering if the pair had come to bully them out of their stuff.

It might have been hurtful, if it didn't sound exactly like something they'd do on some other afternoon. Today Howard was only looking for a shady, secluded spot to study the magazine. After a few minutes walking through the school, Howard found a perfect place: The stairwell leading down the utility basement.

Nobody had unlocked the door to the basement yet, but the stairs made a good place to sit. Howard flipped through until he found the right article. With a furtive glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking, he began to read.

 


End file.
